Lembasalot
by Lillian de Jules
Summary: Frodo’s recruiting people to sit at Elrond’s round council, but look at his choices…the strangely flatulent Boromir? The cowardly Pippin? The homicidal and possibly gay Merry? The definitely gay Legolas? The sappy Aragorn? The scatting Galadriel?


**-Lembasalot-**

**Chapter One—Shire Land/Beer Drinking Song**

_Frodo's recruiting people to sit at Elrond's round council, but look at his choices…the sappy Aragorn? The cowardly Pippin? The homicidal (and possibly gay) Merry? The definitely gay Legolas? The strangely flatulent Boromir? And we can't forget the scatting Galadriel…what the hell is going on here?_

This was partly inspired by Monty Python's "Spamalot." My Spamalot song lyrics pamphlet was lying on top of my copy of _The Fellowship of the Ring_, and this is the sickening result. It's kind of just…a random story. Full of random things. Enjoy…or not. Your choice. It will make more sense if you've seen or heard Spamalot before, but give it a try even if you haven't.

Disclaimer: If I owned Lord of the Rings, you probably wouldn't be obsessed with it. Trust me.

**COCOCOCOCO**

Middle Earth, 3018. A land divided. We've got your basic power-hungry Men (and women, too), your seductive, blond Elves, your short Dwarves with confusing gender attributes, your Orcs that make Michael Jackson look like Miss America, and your tiny hobbits with curly hair and hairy feet. Why don't we capitalize "hobbit?" Middle Earth is in need of some more hobbit rights activists. Anyhoo…let's start with our overlooked, underprivileged hobbits in their lovely, golf-course green Shire Land.

**COCOCOCOCO**

"The Shire is the country for me!" Frodo declared, slamming his beer mug on the table.

"That's _interesting_!" Sam declared, slamming his beer mug on the table so hard that it broke in half.

"Aww, man!" he muttered peevishly as frothy liquid spilled all over his high-waters.

"Great job, Sam," Frodo chuckled, tossing him a napkin.

"Hey!" shouted a random hobbit, "Let's sing our traditional beer-drinking song!" There was a chorus of hearty agreement, and the hobbits all began to sing (to the tune of the "Fisch Schlapping" dance):

_Drink! Drink!_

_Drink and drink away,_

_Drink! Drink!_

_Drink away all day,_

_Drink! Drink!  
You simply can't go wrong,_

_In traditional beer drinking song!_

With loud cheering, the hobbits downed enormous mugs of beer and went back for more.

Outside, Pippin grumbled to himself as he passed the bar. Everybody _else _got to drink beer and sing the traditional beer-drinking song (his personal favorite), while _he _was stuck outside pushing the dead cart.

"Bring out your dead!" he yelled to the night. The stench from the four dead bodies already on the cart was killing him.

As Pippin passed a hobbit hole, their large dog (on an electric fence, but he didn't know that) began barking viciously. He jumped and dove under the cart for cover, in a fetal position. After several minutes of whimpering, Pip finally decided the dog had (a) found a bone, (b) lost interest in him, or (c) suffered a sudden and fatal heart attack. When he emerged from his hiding place, he found that (c) was in fact true. Odd.

"Bring out your dead!" he repeated, resuming the pushing of the smelly cart.

"Here's one!" Merry suddenly appeared, dragging Bilbo behind him.

"I'm not dead!" the old hobbit protested, struggling to break free.

"He says he's not dead," Pippin told his cousin, nodding in Bilbo's general direction.

"Yes he is," Merry insisted.

"I feel happy! I feel _happy_!" Bilbo cried, finally getting away from Merry and springing up.

"I can dance!" Bilbo announced, twirling around a like a ballerina, "I can _SIIING!" _He demonstrated by shrieking in the manner of an opera singer.

"I can even do the Gondor fling!" Bilbo began waving his arms around like a senile man on fire, presumably executing some sort of dance move.

"He's not dead!" Merry and Pippin whirled around in shock to see the presumably dead bodies on the cart sitting up, looking quite alive.

"Can't you see the old geezer dancing around like a senile man on fire?" the bodies demanded, "Don't put him on the cart—he's not yet dead!"

"You're not dead either!" Pippin said in horror. The bodies exchanged glances.

"So?" they said at last. Pippin was about to think up a response when Bilbo interrupted him by break dancing violently. Merry, who had remained quite silent the entire time, whacked the old hobbit smartly on the head. He immediately slumped to the floor.

There was a profound silence.

"Well, he's dead now," Pippin said.

"How could you do that?" the bodies cried in horror, "You homicidal bastard! Who is this knave in need of serious anger management? What's your name, you brute?"

"My name is Meriadoc," announced Merry proudly, "I'm big and strong!" He proceeded to flex his nonexistent muscles as everyone else present looked on with mild disbelief.

"Occasionally I do some things I shouldn't," Merry admitted, giving up on the muscle thing, "But…I'm so big and strong, I'm going to enlist in Frodo's army!" He pointed to a sign posted on a nearby post. Pippin rushed over, and the bodies, apparently unable to get off the cart, whipped out telescopes.

_Elrond of Rivendell wants YOU to join Frodo Baggins' army!_

_Frodo is seeking men who are able. _

_Requirements: liking to fight, opera mad, impeccable footwork, being able to put "Sir" in front of first name _

_If chosen, you will get to sit at Elrond's round council, eat delicious lembas bread a lot, and be called "Sir so-and-so" for the rest of your life. _

_Bonus points are given to anyone who catches Frodo a delicious bass._

_So what are you waiting for? Get your arse over to Frodo and enlist! _

"I'm going to be a knight in Frodo's army!" Merry declared.

"I wanna be a knight," Pippin said, "But…I don't like fighting."

"You're screwed, buddy," the bodies chimed.

"No you aren't," Merry said, "I'll be with you every step of the way! I'll show you what to do!" He hooked his arm through Pippin's and steered him towards the bar, "Let's go find Frodo."

"And you can teach me how to dance!" Pippin said excitedly.

"Uh…sure," Merry grinned unsurely.

"I'm coming, too!" Bilbo leapt up from the ground and rushed after the duo, "I'll be your musician!"

"You just won't die, will you?" Merry muttered.

"Wait for us!" the bodies, now suddenly able to move, tumbled off the cart, "We don't want to fight, but we can be…minstrels or something!"

"You can be Pippin's minstrels," Merry decided, dumping the responsibility of singing dead bodies instantly on his cousin, "For…moral support."

"Cool! I have minstrels!" Pippin grinned from ear to ear.

"I can't wait to kill people!" Merry said enthusiastically.

**COCOCOCOCO**

"Mr. Frodo, there are some hobbits outside that want to enlist in your army," Sam informed his master. Frodo belched long and loud, and waved his hand carelessly.

"Sure, why not," he said airily, "Tell them they're officially knights, and to meet me at the edge of the Shire tomorrow."

"Sure thing," Sam was about to turn away when Frodo called him back with a, "Did you forget something, Sam?"

"Uh…like what?" the gardening hobbit asked unsurely.

"BOW TO YOUR SENSEI!" Frodo bellowed, "_BOW TO YOUR SENSEI!_" Sam quickly bent over and scuttled away.

**COCOCOCOCO**

**-End Chapter-**

There were exactly 2 Napoleon Dynamite references in this chapter. Can you find both of them?

Also, random bit of information…my desktop is a picture of Merry looking suggestively at Pippin, who is like "WTF?" Yeah…


End file.
